That One Christmas
by AliaAtreidesBr
Summary: Selina Kyle has left her life as Catwoman to raise her son. What happens when it's Christmas and Bruce Wayne/Batman is the absent father that decides to make an appearance? A Holiday one-shot. COMPLETE.


_Hello!_

_So, a long time ago I wrote a story called "Unexpected Child". It was one of the first FF I ever wrote, and one I love dearly. It dealt with Selina Kyle/Catwoman finding out she was pregnant and being a single mom, and how Bruce Wayne/Batman reacts and what he does when he realizes he has a son. That story has a time gap of about seven years between chapters 2 and 3, and this story here is an episode that would fit in those years._

_That said, I just want to let you know, dear reader, that this is merely a Christmas story I felt like writing. I'm always having ideas about holyday stories, and I never get to write them. This time, however, I jumped right into it, and this is the result. I hope you enjoy this and, if you do, give me feedback! Oh, well, if you don't like it you can't give me feedback too. I would appreciate any feedback that actually helps my writing._

_Anyway, I apologize for any mistakes - English is a second language for me, so I ask for patience. Also, I remind you I do not own Catwoman or Batman (man, I wish I did!)._

_Thank you so much for reading!_

_AliaAtreidesBr_

* * *

><p>"Thomas", Selina called, "it's bed time...!"<p>

"Mom, cam'on…!" The boy said, clearly annoyed. "It's Chrismas eve!"

He was by their huge Christmas tree, sat on the floor and playing with his train set. His old Christmas number – trying to stay up all night so he could see Santa.

"I _know_ it's Christmas eve, sweetheart, but still… It's pretty late." She thought for a moment, making her best to come up with a convincing argument. Not an easy task, these days. Her son was already five years old, and a smart little guy; their conversations were getting more and more leveled every day, and she wondered for how long she would be able to rely on her mothers-can-do-no-wrong status. "Say what: why don't we go to my room and watch a movie while we get cozy and comfy under the covers?"

"Can we watch 'Cars'?" The boy's expression was hopeful and his tone translated his excitement.

"Sure we can, darling." _Yet again_, she thought. Oh, well. "Cars" beats "Miracle in 34th Street" any time of the day, in Selina's opinion. She just couldn't stand the melodramatic old movie anymore, the most reprised film in Christmas history, no doubt.

The boy smiled in sincere happiness, a sight that always warmed Selina's heart. "Okay, mommy!", he said, grabbing his toys from the floor. Oh, the train phase…

"I'll make cocoa for us."

"All right!" Thomas celebrated by hopping wildly while going to his mother's bedroom.

Smiling herself, she went to the kitchen. Thomas was pretty familiar with any electronic equipment, and could put his DVDs and Blue-ray discs to play all by himself since he was a two years old – perks of being the only kid of a single mom. The boy was resourceful and independent, and Selina was sure that, by the time she finally get to her bedroom carrying their hot beverages, her son would be perfectly installed on her bed, enjoying his cartoon.

She started preparing the chocolate, and found herself allowing her thoughts to drift to distant places. Christmas, after all, wasn't her favorite holyday, to say the least. Sure, after Thomas was born, she had come around her old grudge - frankly, her childhood traumas seemed a lot less important these days. The fact her holyday seasons had never been good when she was a kid was no excuse to ruin her son's Christmas. And so she had always put that extra effort to give her boy that thing she never had: peaceful and happy festivities.

From what she could see, she was doing a fine job. Thomas was very into Christmas and all that came with it. Letters to Santa, lists of presents, a decorated pine tree in the middle of her living room – they went through it all. Recently, the kid had even been talking about Christmas as baby Jesus' birthday, and that was kind of strange to Selina: she had never taken the boy to church or anything, and didn't intend to. Still, it wasn't in her place to keep Thomas from knowing religions and their secular traditions, reason why she had bought a few books about the topic for them to read together.

In a way, she had always known that Christmas was so much more than buying a tree and putting a few toys under it. The talk about Jesus, or trying to explain to the boy what was Hanukah, or why not _everybody_ celebrated Christmas, that was the easy part. She knew little to nothing about that, but that she could learn; the _hard_ part, she thought, was that she had to do it all by herself.

It was up to her to buy every present, set the tree, take the boy to see Santa at the mall. Explain to him about the season that represented love and family, even though theirs was a family of two, so different from the ones her son's friends had. Keep the illusion that there was an old fellow that delivered gifts during night by waking up at four a.m. to place packages under the tree and sweets inside socks, never forgetting to eat a few cookies and spill milk over the floor.

_Oh, Bruce… where are you now?_, she caught herself wondering. Though she knew where he probably was: patrolling in Gotham, no doubt. Far away from them. She had chosen to move to London when she found out she was pregnant, and had never told Bruce. He discovered it eventually, when Thomas was already two years old. They had made a pact, then: that Bruce would stay away for as long as he was Batman. It hadn't been easy, but even Bruce could see how dangerous it would be, how risky for their child if one of Gotham's freaks ever found out Batman's son. The way Selina saw it, she had given him options – Bruce made his choice.

And so, there was no Bruce. No _dad_. No shared responsibility there: that boy was all hers, for good or worst.

Though she couldn't help the thought, of course, that strange image of Bruce as a father during Christmas. For some reason, she believed he would do great. There were so many harsh and dark angles in that man, but she just knew that parenthood wouldn't be one of those. She recalled the few hours Bruce spent in their company those years ago, and how surprisingly warm and kind he was towards the boy. It was a strange thing, being a parent; scary, even. She knew Bruce had had but a glimpse of that, and still he got it: that overwhelming feeling, that mix of fear and pure joy, the realization of the fact that there was a vigorous, walking, talking little miracle conquering the world – and you actually had a part in _making_ that.

And no small part Bruce had, she privately admitted. Thomas had never known Bruce but for that one opportunity, which the boy probably didn't even remember, and still she saw his father in him so often. Not simply in his features, in those physical similarities that were so obvious – it was also in gestures and in his personality, in a particular glance or reaction, in the way the boy once told her she "could be a nuisance sometimes", exactly as Bruce had said one night, so long ago.

How Bruce truly felt, however, she didn't know. They hadn't been talking much, and that was the way she wanted. Phone calls are just the beginning, and she didn't want to lead him to think – or her, for that matter – that they still had something between them. She didn't want to bring herself to hope. And, most of all, she didn't want Thomas to wonder about his father.

That was also why she had never accepted anything from Bruce. There were the practical reasons: what if someone can trace the money, or the calls, even that innocent birthday present? The truth, however, was so much more complicated than that…

It was in that first Christmas just after Bruce had been there and met Thomas, when he was still so confused. He sent something for the boy in a big box, wrapped in beautiful red paper; for her, a smaller one, in a silver and blue package. She remembered how both were delivered right to her doorstep just the day before Christmas, waiting for her when she got out of the elevator with Thomas sleeping on her arms. She also remembered thinking _what the hell are you thinking, Bruce?_, and getting rid of those right away.

More packages came, and all got the same destiny – she would mail them back to Wayne Enterprises without further explanations and hope that Bruce would eventually get the hint. He did, it seemed. This year, nothing came.

She thought she would get relived – she was, in a way.

Then why did she keep waiting, no, _hoping_, for something to come? Thinking of excuses and reasons a package could be late or even lost in the UK postal service?

Though those presents never actually came by mail, as far as she knew.

Selina finished preparing the cocoa, pouring in both cups the milk that had boiled long ago. Marshmallows, like Thomas preferred, and chocolate chip cookies on the side. That was a menu she rarely allowed in her house, but what the hell; it was Christmas. Besides, she was tired and, admittedly, a little depressed. Sugar and chocolate couldn't hurt, as sleeping in her bed with Thomas's small and warm body next to her for one night also wouldn't.

She entered the bedroom carrying a tray, and was about to ask loudly "_who's the little boy that wants some chocolate"_… but found Thomas already deeply asleep. Lightning McQueen raced and yelled in the TV, but her kid was passed out over the covers, one of his arms pending out of the bed, his legs spreads in a very loose, comfortable pose.

"Figures", she mumbled, a smile as she moved the boy under the sheets, and fixed the pillows under his head. Then, she placed a light kiss over his forehead. "My precious little boy"

Turning off the television, she sat close to her son, quietly sipping from her hot chocolate in the dark. Christmas – she had felt lonely so often in her life, especially in holydays… but not at that moment. Not right now, not at this point in her life. She was done, over with feeling sorry for herself. She had all she needed right there, inside that room and over that bed.

That didn't mean she couldn't wonder… wish for something more.

"Merry Christmas, Bruce…", she whispered, "wherever you are."

* * *

><p>Selina woke up that Christmas morning to the sounds of his son playing in the living room of her apartment.<p>

"_What time is it?"_, she wondered. There was light coming through the curtains in her bedroom, so it was definitely morning…

"Shit!" It was morning already. _Morning._ Which meant she had overslept, and she didn't place the damn presents under the tree, and didn't eat the damn cookies or drank the damn milk…! And the socks were empty by the fireplace, and Thomas woke up to find out that Santa had _forgotten _all about him…

"_Why didn't Thomas call me?"_

Typical. Kid wakes up pretty early in Christmas morning and go straight to the tree to see what he got… except that, thanks to his awful mother, there was nothing to find and now…

"_What the heck…?"_

She had just arrived at the living room. Her living room. It was hers, right?

It looked like her place, with everything just as she had left the night before… if not for the presents under the tree. And the socks stashed with the candy. An empty plate of cookies and just half a glass of milk.

"Mommy!" Thomas greeted her. He seemed so happy and excited, surrounded by pieces of wrapping paper and trying to play with a dozen toys at once.

"Hey, sweetie", she answered, making her best to not show how surprised and actually _worried_ she was. "You got so many presents, didn't you?"

Too many, in fact. Right now Thomas was playing with a set of electric trains that she hadn't bought at all.

"I did, mommy! Look!" He pointed at the trains. "This one is really _cool_, mom! And so is the Lego, and the racing track for my cars, and those new crayons over there…"

He kept enumerating all the presents he had already opened, jumping around the tree and commenting on the coolness of his gifts. Selina, however, found out she just couldn't think straight; all she could register was that someone had been in her house, and she was quite positive it hadn't been Santa Claus.

"And look, mommy, look! Look, look!" The boy was now waving a small package he had in his hands in front of her face.

"What's this…?"

"It's _your_ present, mommy!" Thomas had a bright, broad smile of pride as he spoke. "It's from me, and Santa too, I guess. And I'm supposed to make sure you open it!"

Selina's heart skipped a beat. "What did you mean, baby? Why do you have to _make sure_ I open it…?"

"Santa said so!" He frowned, annoyed for having to state what he probably judged as pretty obvious.

"Santa… Santa Claus told you…?"

"No, mom!" Now he looked positively outraged. "Santa was delivering presents, silly… Santa's _helper_ gave me the message."

"Baby." She grabbed the package in his hands and placed it away from the boy, then pulling him close and looking straight at his eyes. "This is really important, okay? Tell me about this _helper_. Did you see him? What did he say to you?"

The boy's widened eyes made Selina realize he was getting scared. Damn it.

"It was just a helper, mom." His tone was calm, however, and he seemed to have understood the fear behind his mother's questions. "He was nice. I saw when he was leaving; he was going out the window."

"And did he _speak_ to you?"

Thomas thought for a second, and then answered. "Yes. I… I called him. Then he turned, and he was wearing a mask. All black, like his clothes. And he said, 'hello', and I did too."

Selina put both hands over her mouth. _"Oh, my God…"_

"I asked him who he was, and he said he was helping Santa", proceeded the child. "He said Santa was late in his 'schedull', and needed him to make a few deliveries."

"And then he left."

Again Thomas hesitated. "Well… no. He… he asked me if I was okay. If I was happy. I said I was."

Selina held her breath.

"Then he said he knew I had a been a good boy, because he had been watching me. _Us_."

"Us?"

"You too, mommy. He said he had been watching over you too." Thomas reached for her hand, taking it into his. "He said he was really proud of me, because I was taking good care of you!"

"You are, baby." She pulled him close to her, hugging his warm body against her chest. _"Bruce… why did you do this…?"_

Thomas kept talking, his voice muffled as he spoke through her embrace. "He gave me the present, mom, your present. He said I should make sure you would open it, because you forget about opening your presents, sometimes…" He looked up, staring at her in an expression that showed how curious he was. "Do you, mommy?"

"I do, honey. I guess I do, sometimes."

He gently escaped from her arms, again taking the small package and offering it to Selina. "Then open it now, mommy."

It was a small box, wrapped in silver paper. She noticed a folded piece of paper that was partially tucked inside the wrapping. Taking it out slowly, she carefully unfolded it, reading the hand-written note with Thomas sat on her lap:

_Selina,_

_I hope you don't hate me for what I have done. I honestly didn't plan on it until yesterday, and I considered calling you before doing anything, but I guess you know why I didn't. _

_There's no way of excusing myself, though I can explain. It's been over three years since I saw Thomas, and I miss him in a way I don't think you could understand or I could successfully describe. He has become the center of my life, and yet, he's not around. Therefore, I feel lost, unable to find a route to that person I used to be, the one that ceased to exist the moment I laid eyes on our son. _

_I know you don't want me in your life, both yours and Thomas's, and I respect that. And I always will, if that's what you chose to do. But, please, don't keep me from this one thing: watching you from a distance, knowing you are both fine, sharing, in a way, your happiness. _

_Love,_

_B._

_P.S.: This gift is something I have been trying to give you for a few years now, without success. Please, open it – don't send it back. It would mean so much to me if you accepted it._

She took a deep breath and tore the paper wrapping in a few movements. Thomas watched in silence while she found a plain, dark blue box, and opened it carefully,

Inside, a heart-shaped pendant in a delicate, gold chain. The heart was actually an emerald, bright green, beautiful, perfectly lapidated.

"Wow", Thomas said, marveling at the sight of the necklace. "That's a green heart, mommy! Nice!"

"Yes, it is", she agreed. It was really nice, and precious. She recognized it, in fact; it had belonged to Bruce's mother, Martha, a long time ago. Selina had seen it in a picture Bruce had in his bedroom, one in which his mother looked so young and happy, smiling at the camera in such joy. "Your mother was really beautiful", she remembered telling him then. He didn't like her comment, she recalled; he wasn't fond of talking about his mother.

Martha Wayne. Her son's grandmother.

"I like it, mommy", Thomas had taken hold of the emerald heart, studying it in his palm.

"Yeah, I like it too." She kissed the top of his head. "It's a wonderful present, honey. Thank you for making me open it."

"You're welcome, mommy."

Selina smiled. It was Christmas morning – and nothing had gone as she planned. Still, she felt happy; all and all, things had worked out pretty well in her little world.


End file.
